Yours, Yours, Yours
by Natmonkey
Summary: Sebastian Vael manages to tear himself away from his princely duties to visit his beloved Champion in the middle of the night. A sequel to Temptations of the Wicked.


_Gay sex ahead - not your thing? Turn back now. **Snowybiscuit** will be happy to learn that I took her advice to heart. Hooray, less clutter!  
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**Yours, Yours, Yours**

Vael's key turns smoothly in the lock; the massive door opens without a sound. All is dark and quiet in the Hawke mansion. Even faithful Bodahn must have already retired to bed. No wonder: it is the dead of night, after all. The prince hangs his cloak on one of the designated hooks, then picks up the lit candle that Hawke has instructed his servant to leave out every night, just in case. Hawke likes to live dangerously, so he doesn't mind the fire hazard.

Vael softly whistles a cheerful tune as he ascends the stairs. Even though he has had a tough time, first taking back Starkhaven with his beloved Champion's help and then ruling the place without, he now feels as if all is well with the world again. This ruler lark is a lot of work, to put it mildly, but very much worth it. Where once upon a time the Chantry was his life, he now hardly remembers a single verse or ritual. He is dying to see his lover again after having gone weeks without his pleasant company. Vael doesn't really have the time for such diversions, but he has no choice. He couldn't resist the powerful urge to haul ass to his beloved's home in the middle of the night. A break was long overdue.

The prince pushes open the door to Hawke's bedroom and is nearly thrown back by the wall of oppressive heat within. Vael has never been able to fathom why Hawke is so fond of these tropical temperatures. Gingerly he steps into the warmth and closes the door behind him. An enormous fire is roaring in the hearth, bathing the chamber in a soft orange glow. So hot. Vael pulls his tunic, damp already, over his head and dumps it on the floor. His eyes fondly devour Hawke's barely clad frame on the king-size bed. The man is lying on his stomach with a pillow clutched in his arms. His breathing is deep and even. Vael's gaze travels down the prone length, halting just below the back. Mmm, that magnificent curve of his ass, the silky fabric of his shorts clinging to the skin. The sight is making the prince's mouth water.

The bed gives a slight creak as he gets on, but the Champion doesn't even stir. Tenderly Vael brushes away the hair from the nape of his lover's neck and kisses his soft skin. Hawke makes a small noise and shifts, still sound asleep. He looks so irresistible; even now he has that sweet smile on his lips, albeit faintly. Vael continues his pleasurable activities down his beloved's neck, the silky hairs there tickling him. His fingers trace the cords of the man's impressive musculature. His arms, his shoulders, his back. Oh, how he has missed this. A man can't live by dreams and thoughts alone. His mouth soon follows the example of his fingers, lovingly kissing every bare patch of skin it comes across. Hawke is covered in a thin sheen of sweat; it leaves a salty tang on his lips. Vael is straining against his smallclothes, heavily aroused by the taste, scent and feel of his beloved. It has been too long since the last time he had the privilege of touching him.

It rather surprises the prince that his Champion has yet to awaken. Vael smiles, running his fingertips down the length of Hawke's spine. He himself is not the only one who is short on leisure hours, of course. Maker knows Hawke isn't resting on his laurels either. Who knows how long it has been since the man has had a proper night's sleep? He should really leave him in peace. Then again, greater men than he succumb to lesser temptations every day and Vael has no intentions at all towards fighting this particular one. Look at him, so attractive. So inviting. Surely Hawke will forgive him for the disturbance.

Vael looks with great admiration at the dimples below either side of his lover's spine. They are possibly his favourite part of Hawke's body. On the other hand… The prince slowly peels the remaining garment away from his Champion's glistening skin. That splendid behind, so sculpted and firm, is not to be sneezed at either.

Red-hot lust stabs into his belly, so hard that it hurts. Seeing the form of his lover so vulnerable does something to him. It suddenly occurs to Vael that he has yet to enjoy Hawke in the manner he has always enjoyed him; this is a situation he intends to rectify straight away. There go Hawke's shorts, flying off into a corner. Vael pours a small amount of oil from the conspicuous vial on the night stand into his palm; his aching cock he has already freed from its prison. Slowly he oils himself up, making sure to get the slippery substance into every nook and cranny. With his knee he nudges the sleeping Champion's legs apart. The prince lays his oil-slicked hands on the spectacular buns before him and parts them, baring his mark to the light. He can't resist running his tongue over the star-shaped aperture for a moment and feeling it twitch. Not even at this time do the sleeper's eyes open.

Vael makes sure that his lover is properly moistened too. His slippery fingers massage the entrance, feeling the muscle loosen and open under his manipulations. Hawke gives a little moan now and wiggles his backside. He shows more and more signs of rousing as Vael pushes himself in. The flesh clings tightly to his rod, but gives way with ease. Only when the prince is firmly and fully embedded in that delicious ass, does the Champion wake at long last.

With a load groan Hawke arches into his lover. "What a lovely surprise," he murmurs, his voice still thick with sleep. "And here I thought I was only having a beautiful dream." A gasp tumbles from his lips at a tentative thrust.

"I've missed you." Vael lays himself atop his beloved, wrapping his arms around his waist and kissing his shoulder. His pelvis gives subtle thrusts all the while. He has no choice but to take things slow and easy, because that tight, hot channel might end it all too soon.

"I've missed you too." Hawke cranes his neck so his prince can only just press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Been busy?"

Vael nods. "Terribly. I had to get away from there." Finally he can afford more speed and power to his movements, which he happily applies. Hawke responds to this with delighted moans and a tilt of the hips, enabling his lover to give deeper thrusts. He also spreads his legs somewhat wider; this allows Vael to get in even deeper yet. The beautiful hollow of Hawke's back seems expressly created for the purpose of sending a greater supply of blood south of the border. All these little things tell the prince that his Champion has played this role before. And from now on he will get to do it more often too. Hearing the lovely noises he is coaxing forth isn't enough; he must see the look on Hawke's face. A brilliant idea forming in his brain, Vael abruptly withdraws.

"No, what are you doing?" questions Hawke, a frustrated groan punctuating every word.

Vael chuckles at his lover's obvious need and offers an explanation. "It's your own fault for being so handsome." He grabs as many pillows off the bed as his arms will hold. "Come." They are laid out before the tall mirror in which Hawke admires himself daily. Or perhaps even hourly, knowing the man's vanity. "Kneel here for me," the prince commands.

The Champion obediently does as he is told. "You are just full of bright ideas," he says with a grin, his eyes fixed on Vael's in the mirror. The man wriggles his behind and shamelessly offers himself to his companion. "Well? What are you waiting for?" The look on his face is one of sheer want and impatience.

No matter how much he would like to hear his lover beg for his attentions, Vael finds he is far too impatient himself. Agonizingly slowly, he slides back in. In perfect unison the two utter a relieved groan. The prince is having great trouble keeping his eyes open so he can watch Hawke. The sight is more than worth his efforts. Sweat beads on the Champion's brow as he hisses out his pleasure from between clenched teeth, his eyes tightly shut. It's almost enough to do Vael in then and there.

By sheer force of willpower he manages to push back the rising tide, even though the tight ring clamping down on the base of his cock isn't helping at all. Soft, velvety walls embrace and caress the length of him. It all just feels too damned good. In an effort to distract himself, Vael lays his arms around Hawke's waist and pulls the man's torso flush with his own. He pays no attention to his lover's pleads and protests, ceasing his thrusts in favour of letting his hands roam the well-formed body pressed against his. The Champion takes excellent care of himself and this shows. Vael's fingers tremble with delight as they stroke the silky skin that covers strong muscle. His eyes are feasting on Hawke's writhing form in the mirror.

"Maker's breath, Hawke, you're beautiful," he groans breathlessly into his ear.

Hawke chuckles awkwardly, the blush on his face deepening. "Shut up," he mumbles, eyes bashfully averted. Vael has never seen his beloved display such shyness; his heart flows over with affection. The shyness quickly dissipates under the prince's tender ministrations. Eliciting sweet little moans with lips and tongue and teeth, Vael's hands glide down a taut stomach until they find their prize. Hawke's fearsome organ is so rigid, it hardly yields under his squeezing fingers. No matter how often he has touched it, Vael never ceases to be surprised by the sheer size of the thing. With both hands he strokes and rubs it, feeling it expand under his touch. Soon it pulses wildly and sends warm spurts of pearlescent liquid down the caressing hands. Hawke's eyes roll back in his head as he screams out his climax, squirming in his lover's arms.

Witnessing all this in the mirror instantly evaporates Vael's self-control. The prince returns his panting partner to his kneeling position and at long last continues his thrusts. His need drives him to alarming speed and force, pummelling away at Hawke's pulsing tunnel. Hawke doesn't seem to mind; he merely moans blissfully under the vicious attack. His face is rosy with contentment, eyes looking up at Vael's mirror image. The usually so talkative Champion doesn't even say a word as he watches his lover fuck him to within an inch of his life. Vael's own ending approaches with rapid strides under the mind-blowing stimulation that Hawke's delectable backside is offering him. The prince finishes with a great roar, digging his fingers deep into narrow hips. Pleasure rages through him like a violent storm, until it leaves him free to collapse on the many pillows.

Hawke is quick to wrap his arms around the gasping figure and kiss his forehead. "I'm so happy to see you again," he murmurs affectionately. Their lips meet for a long, loving kiss.

"As am I, but I would be even happier if I could see you every day." Vael snuggles up closer to his beloved, knowing he will have to race back to Starkhaven all too soon. If Hawke wasn't so damned busy, he would have him move in with him and share his life with him every day. _My hearth is yours, my bread is yours, my life is yours._ The Chant again; it seems as if perhaps he hasn't forgotten as much as he thought. Vael closes his eyes and smiles. The Maker may condemn their love, but isn't love beautiful in any shape or form?


End file.
